The Player + The Pact = I Do (New York City Billionaires #2)

Chapter 25

TWENTY-FIVE

Jules

I don’t know if it’s because of the fresh, crisp air of this October day, but there’s a lift in my chest and I can’t stop smiling. I feel like I’m about to go on vacation or something. I’ve spent the morning trying not to replay my conversation with Leo last night. He wants to have dinner. To talk. And I want that too. I like the guy. I more than like him. He’s not the man I thought he was when I met him. He’s a flirt for sure. And he has women asking for his number all the time, I have no doubt. But I don’t think he’s some kind of unreliable, unfaithful womanizer. He’s not the player I thought he was. It’s early between us, but we share an undeniable chemistry in and out of the bedroom.

Maybe he was right the first time we met. Maybe he is my destiny.

I arrive at the coffee shop where I’m meeting my dad and order. It’s just before twelve, so there’s no line. I’d like to order for him too, but I wouldn’t be able to recite his coffee order for a million dollars.

I can’t help but think about my mom’s reaction when I tell her Dad has reappeared. I haven’t said anything about him turning up on the roof terrace. I know it would upset her, and if he’s just going to turn around and disappear again, there’s no point. I get the feeling I’ll have to have the conversation sometime soon. He texted this morning to confirm our meeting, and he seems determined to get a job here. I know I’ve told Leo I don’t want him to hire my dad—and I don’t—but I wonder if he knows someone outside of the Hart company who might have an opening. My dad’s obviously motivated about finding work.

I take a seat and check my watch. It’s two minutes past twelve. A shiver of anxiety passes down my spine and I try to shrug it off. I don’t need to worry. He’s going to show. If he wasn’t, why would he have texted this morning? He wouldn’t have bothered. I swallow and try not to look out the window. I used to spend hours sitting on my windowsill as a child, waiting for an unfamiliar car to pull up outside our house, hoping my father would open the driver’s door. Every now and then, that’s exactly what happened, and for a few days or weeks, or sometimes even a month or two, we would be a family.

Until he left.

I’d never know when he was going to go. He could be happy as a clam at dinner, and by morning, his car would have disappeared, the suitcase he came with vanished with him. He’d never leave a trace of himself behind. Except that last time, when he left his comics. When I was old enough to analyze these things, I often wondered whether his leaving them behind was a sign. Did he want to leave a piece of himself with me?

“Hey, Dollface!”

I snap my head up to find my father standing over me, arms outstretched. He’s fifteen minutes late, but who’s counting?

“Dad,” I say, jumping up from my seat. Without thinking, I accept his hug. He pulls me in close. It should feel familiar. A hug from my dad is something I should take for granted. But his arms feel alien, his frame doesn’t fit. It feels a little awkward, but at least I can’t smell whiskey. I hold on for as long as I can.

Eventually, he pulls back and holds me by the shoulders. “You look great, kid.”

I smile. “Thanks. Can I get you a coffee?”

He sits while I get him a double espresso. While I watch the barista make his drink, I wonder whether he always drinks espresso, or only when he might want to be done in a mouthful. He just has to take a gulp and it’s gone. Then he’s free to leave. Espresso is the coffee for people who don’t want to be in one place for very long. It’s coffee for my father.

I slide the cup onto the table.

“Thanks, doll,” he says.

“You’re welcome. You ready to meet Leo?” Between his lateness and the time it took to order his drink, we don’t have much time. Twenty minutes or so before we’ll have to leave.

“Sure thing,” he says in the same upbeat voice he uses when he says “Dollface.”

I know Leo’s not going to give him a job, but I still want my dad to make a good impression. “He’s my boss, Dad. So… you know. You gotta be on your best behavior.”

He laughs. “I’m always on my best behavior. Tell me about being manager of The Mayfair,” he says. “What’s it like being the boss of so many people? ”

“It’s good,” I say. “It’s early days, but I’m enjoying getting things in shape. I think it’s got an exciting future.”

“Miss Boss Lady. Who would have thought it? You were such a funny kid. Always had your head in a book. Your room was always neat as a pin. And so independent.” He grins as he shakes his head.

My stomach starts to curdle. I don’t want to talk about my childhood. About how I was so independent because my mom was working two jobs to put a roof over our heads.

“So are you back in town to stay? Where have you been living?”

He leans back in his chair, stretching out his legs under the table. “Gotta love New York. Place is always changing and never changes at the same time.”

I smile at his description. He’s not wrong.

I wait for him to answer. How long is he back for? If he asked for a job at The Mayfair, he must be planning to stay for a reasonable amount of time.

“Do you live in Manhattan?” he asks.

“Jersey,” I say.

He nods. “Great place. I’d love to see your setup.”

My heart inches higher in my chest at the thought of showing my dad around my apartment. It’s not big, but Sophia and I have made it cozy. “I like to decorate for fall,” I say.

“You do? That’s nice. With the acorns and stuff?”

“Yeah, I like to have a wreath on the door, even though we’re in an apartment building. And inside, on the table, there’s a centerpiece of mini pumpkins and faux leaves.”

“You like interior décor? Doing stuff like that for fun?”

I sigh. “I suppose I do.” I’ve been having some ideas for the hotel lobby that I think will elevate the area. Louis took away the fresh flower arrangements. I want to bring them back, but in a modern, creative way that’s more cost effective than having huge numbers of fresh flowers delivered twice a week. I’m thinking I’ll pair planted orchids with fresh flowers on the table, then put air plants on the reception desk in striking glass containers so they’re a talking point for guests. At the moment the lobby looks bleak. I think we can do better.

“Looks like you get on well with your boss,” he says.

I hope the heat in my cheeks doesn’t show. “He’s a good guy.” There’s no point telling him about the engagement. It will make things more awkward for him when he meets Leo next. He needs to see him as a potential boss, not a future son-in-law. “He took a chance, giving me the job managing The Mayfair.”

“Hopefully he’ll do the same for me.”

I smile and I hope it looks genuine. “So where are you staying? With a friend or?—”

“Oh just here and there,” he replies. “For some reason I thought your mom worked at The Mayfair.”

“She did. Are you staying in Manhattan?” I ask again. I’m not sure the change of subject was deliberate, but either way, I want to know where he’s staying.

“Yeah, don’t you worry about me,” he says, patting my hand.

I’m not worried exactly. I just… want to know. So far we’ve talked about me, but I don’t know what my dad’s being doing with his life since he walked out all those years ago. The way he’s dodging my questions is starting to feel deliberate.

“What made you move back here?” I ask. “Did you lose your job?” I don’t even know if he got married again. Maybe he’s had more children.

“Just haven’t seen New York in a while,” he says with a simple shrug. There’s not even a rushed addendum about how he’s missed me—how a reunion was overdue.

I can feel myself begin to deflate. The little bit of hope that had lodged itself in my heart is working free.

Maybe he sees it in my gaze, because the next thing he says is not what I expect.

“I know we’ve got a lot to catch up on,” he says. “And I want to do that. I want to hear all your news. I want to know about every job, boyfriend, dream you ever had. I’m going to listen to it all. I’ve missed out on so much… I’d like to get up to speed if you’ll let me.”

He reaches for my hand and I let him take it across the table. That sliver of hope settles back in my heart. He does want to know me. I’m rushing everything, but we have time.

The alarm on my phone bleeps.

“We should leave for your meeting with Leo,” I say.

“You’re coming too?”

I shake my head. “No, but his office is on my way. I can drop you off.”

“Great,” he says, slapping his thighs and standing. “Let’s go.”

Outside, he scoops up my hand and tucks it under his arm. We walk arm in arm, heading north on Madison. He starts pointing to buildings and telling me snippets of history about them or which movies were filmed there. This is the Dad I remember from when I was a kid—the interesting Dad whose every word I clung to. The Dad who knew everything.

“Here we are,” I say, stopping outside Leo’s building.

“Already?” he asks. “I was just getting started with my tour.” He grins at me and I smile.

“I have the annual pass,” I say. “So we can pick up where we left off next time. Are you around over the weekend?”

He nods. “Should be. Got a couple of meetings but apart from that…”

This time I initiate our hug. It’s a little less awkward than it was before. Maybe I’m less stiff. Less nervous. “Good luck,” I say. “Leo’s a good guy.”

Maybe I was too quick to ask Leo not to give him a job. Maybe he deserves a shot.

“Thanks, kid.” He gives me a wink, turns, and pushes through the revolving door to Leo’s office.

I stand and watch as he heads to the reception desk.

Maybe I was wrong about my dad. What if he’s changed? Parenthood is tough and it’s possible he just couldn’t cope with me when I was a child. But it’s different now. He’s got his life. I’ve got mine. I don’t need him for anything. He’s got nothing to run from.